


What we are heir to

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Foreshadowing, Insecurity, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is hard for Orodreth to believe he ranks high in Finrod's priorities; Finrod knows the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What we are heir to

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. I got a prompt for more Finrod & Orodreth after writing a depressing [Turin/Orodreth ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2460896/chapters/15078706) that heavily implied Orodreth having feelings for his dead brother; obviously something sad involving said brother alive was necessary.

“Where are you going?”

Finrod’s voice was curious, with a note to it that Orodreth couldn’t quite place. He turned, and saw his brother standing by the fire with his head on the side, looking at him curiously.

Orodreth gestured vaguely. “I’m going to…my own chambers for the night?” He couldn’t help adding the question mark at the end of the sentence, his older brother’s scrutiny making him, as always, a little unsure. “I thought you were readying to turn in for the night.”

“Not yet,” said Finrod, still watching him, and Orodreth fiddled awkwardly with the tassels on his belt.

“Um. I assumed…” he trailed off. “I assumed there were others you might wish to spend your late hours with,” he said, not more than a mutter, and knew his ears had gone red.

“No,” said Finrod simply.

“Oh,” said Orodreth, knowing he must sound very stupid. Finrod was still watching him with clear eyes and a questing look that meant he was almost certainly picking up on the confused jumble of Orodreth’s thoughts.

“Little brother,” said Finrod, more gently. “You know I value your company, don’t you?”

“I s-suppose,” said Orodreth, and scowled at the floor. He’d had a bit of a stutter in his youth, and it sometimes came back when he felt uncomfortable or wrong-footed.

Footsteps crossed the room, and a moment later Orodreth felt cool fingers on his chin, lifting it so that Finrod could meet his eyes. “I do,” said Finrod. “Artaresto, do you not realize what you are to me?”

“I am your brother,” mumbled Orodreth.

“You are the only person,” said Finrod, his fingers still on Orodreth’s chin, “the _only_ person with whom I can be truly and entirely myself. The only person for whom I do not have to perform. With you I am not king nor lord, with you I do not have to watch what I say and listen between the spaces in your words; with you I do not have to play layers and layers of games and guess at motive…” Finrod let out his breath, and Orodreth realized how very tired his brother looked. Finrod always looked neat and beautiful, composed and regal, and it made it easy to miss the shadows under his eyes and the lines by his mouth.

“I always thought you liked the games,” said Orodreth, his eyes fixed on Finrod’s mouth. “The intricacies of diplomacy and…manipulation.”

Finrod released Orodreth’s chin and sighed. “I do,” he said, turning away, and Orodreth noticed the slump of his shoulders and the weariness of his posture. “I enjoy being challenged, and I enjoy intrigue and ploy and can appreciate a shrewd game when it is played by a master. But,” he gave a ghost of a smile over his shoulder before starting to shrug out of his court robes, “just as a hunter does not wish always to be at the heels of his prey, and a soldier does not wish always to be fighting for her life, I wish sometimes to have a break from the great games.” He stepped out of the brocade and laid it over the back of the chair, looking much younger in just his underclothes. He wrapped a sleep robe around his shoulders and dropped down by the fire, beginning to twist his hair into a braid. He plucked jewels from it absently as he did.

Orodreth found himself drawn across the room to him, and when Finrod patted the hearthrug, Orodreth sat down next to him. Finrod smiled, and then cursed slightly as he encountered a snarl in his hair.

“Let me,” said Orodreth, and felt something tight in his chest loosen as Finrod settled his back against Orodreth’s knees and let Orodreth take his hair between his hands. Orodreth finger-combed the long golden tresses, and Finrod let out a contented murmur.

“Ever since we lost Angrod and Aegnor,” Finrod murmured after a while, “and with dear Galadriel so far away…you are the only one with whom I can feel truly at home.”

The only one, by default of death and distance, thought Orodreth, and his fingers slipped on the braid.

Finrod tipped his head back and gazed at him. “I am not settling for you, little brother,” he said. “I am _grateful_ for you.”

Orodreth swallowed, and bent his head over Finrod’s hair, fixing his eyes on his fingers and focusing his attention on weaving a tight, even plait. He heard Finrod take a deep, shuddery breath.

“I’ve had terrible dreams lately,” he said, his voice very quiet. “And a premonition of great doom. The burden of kingship has felt…especially heavy in recent days, but I feel the surety that some different fate approaches me. It is pacing every closer, and it will be a possible freedom from the weight of rule, but it will – it _may_ also be my doom. I do not wish to fear such a doom, do not wish to linger on its presence, but sometimes it clamors so loudly…”

Orodreth’s fingers tightened in Finrod’s hair and he released the finished braid and almost unconsciously found himself drawing his brother closer, pulling him between his knees to rest his back against Orodreth’s chest instead. Finrod tucked his head under Orodreth’s chin and let Orodreth wrap an arm around his chest. He stroked Orodreth’s forearm with soothing fingers.

“I am comforted,” he said, as Orodreth buried his nose in his brother’s warm hair, “by knowing that you are my heir.”

Orodreth felt his heart stutter. “What do you mean?”

“I know our people will be in good hands with you,” murmured Finrod. “It gives me great peace of spirit to know you may rule in my place one day.”

“It may give you great peace,” said Orodreth, his voice shaking, “but the thought of this…place without you is nothing but horror to me.”

Finrod pushed himself up then and turned so that he and Orodreth were face to face, him kneeling between Orodreth’s knees. Orodreth was ashamed to feel tears on his cheeks.

“Oh, little brother,” said Finrod, in remorse, and cupped Orodreth’s face between his hands. “Do not be afraid, my dear one, my conqueror of mountains – you are stronger than you know.”

“I would not be strong without you,” said Orodreth, knowing it to be true.

“You will never be without me,” said Finrod, laying his hand over Orodreth’s heart, and Orodreth covered it with his own. Finrod would ever speak in symbol, when Orodreth needed not the promise that his brother would always be present in spirit, but that his brother would be there in body.

“Orodreth,” whispered Finrod, “Artaresto – if I only I had the power to make you love and trust yourself as much as I love you.”

Orodreth shook his head, wordless, and then Finrod leaned forward and covered his lips gently, chastely, with his own.

“Value yourself,” he said, when he finally pulled back. Orodreth kept his eyes closed a moment longer, until Finrod touched Orodreth’s lips with those long, cool fingers. “I have seen you in one future as a powerful king and lord, as the warrior I know you are and the leader you will be.”

“And what of the other futures?” said Orodreth, seeking them in his brother’s eyes. But when Finrod kissed him again rather than answer, Orodreth closed his eyes and resigned himself to his brother’s love, and his doom.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Finrod's loving epithet for his brother comes from a loose translation of Orodreth's name as 'mountaineer.'


End file.
